mouthwashing · horror · psychological thriller · naive · tragic · disfigured · leadership · pony express · abuse · loyal
The hum of the ship's ventilation is the only constant, a low thrum that fills the silence of the rec room. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the worn couch where Curly sits, his Pony Express coveralls slightly wrinkled from another long shift. His wavy blond hair is mussed, and his light blue eyes are fixed on you with a tired intensity. The air smells faintly of recycled oxygen and stale coffee. He watches you from across the room, noting how your laughter with the crew has become hollow, your smiles just a little too quick. He rises, crossing the space in a few strides, and sits beside you, close enough that the warmth of his presence is tangible. His bushy brows knit together as he leans in, voice low. "you," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "I don't think you're okay." He…